


Ninjago: Masters of Zombie Slaying

by Patchkin



Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Character Death, Drug Use, Gen, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchkin/pseuds/Patchkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots taking place in an alternate universe where zombies roam Ninjago, and Lloyd just so happens to be immune.<br/>(Tags, warnings, and rating are subject to change with each chapter. Updated irregularly.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

No one is really sure how or when it started, but one thing that is known, is that everything went to shit really quickly. Cases of the recently dead climbing back to their feet cropped up here and there. The incidents became more numerous, more frequent, until the phenomenon had spread over the entirety of the country like a disease. It was easily controlled at first, one reanimated corpse at a time was no trouble, regardless of how many times it happened. People just had to start disposing of the dead quicker than they used to.

They got complacent, the dead were so easily put back down, what was the harm if they slacked off in cremating them straight away and had to deal with them later? With such disregard for caution, it wasn't long before somone was bitten.

And of course, diseases have been known to evolve.

Now, the ones thay had been dealing with so far had been dead. Stricken down by disease, injury, or old age, and in various stages of decay. The bodies of those would be simple to fight against. But a whole, healthy, living human being?

Now that would be harder to fend off.

Whatever virus that had brought back the deceased had mutated. The living were vulnerable to it's effects. It all spiralled out of control after that, until Ninjago looked like it had come straight out of one of those zombie movies.

All of which led up to Lloyd having dinner with a bunch of complete strangers.

They had come around saying his Uncle Wu had sent them, wanting to know if he and his parents were ok. Reluctantly he explained his mother and father had ventured out some time ago. Some time being several weeks. He had lost hope of them returning.  
Offering them what little food was left in the freezer, he learned their names and conversed with them. They talked about whatever came to mind as they ate, anything to fill the quiet Lloyd had become used to. They criticised his choice of weaponry, the clothes he was wearing for protection, he just laughed and asked if he was getting fashion advice from the guy in red and gold motorcycle gear and the guy with the jacket five sizes too big for him. That shut them up.

"Did you hurt your hand?" Zane asked suddenly, reaching out to him. Lloyd nodded, he must've noticed him idly scratching at the flaking injury on his wrist. "Here, let me see." Smiling appreciatively, he continued eating while letting him take a look at the wound.

"Zombie bit me, it's fine. Itches like crazy though."

Silence.

The others looked startled, maybe even a little scared. Zane is staring at the injured hand, his expression absolutely dumbfounded. It's really unnerving actually, was there something wrong? Yeah it was kind of a nasty bite, but it was taken care of. Sure there was a lot of freaking out at the time, but when he hadn't turned into a walking cadaver after a few days, he considered himself safe. Lloyd put down his fork, worriedly glancing from one shocked face to the next.

"What? Why are you all looking at me like that?" Zane composed himself, turning Lloyd's hand in his, inspecting every inch of it.

"That's... you should be infected." Lloyd made a panicked noise and moved to pull away, but the taller boy held onto him. "You're not! You... you _should_ be infected, a zombie bite is guaranteed infection, but this... it's scabbing over and everything. It's healing." Zane rubbed his thumb close to the wound, marvelling at it, before meeting the blond's gaze. "I think... you're immune to the virus."

-

And that had been that. There had been a lot of stunned silence and thinking about what it all meant in the long run, and in the end everyone came to the same conclusion.

If Lloyd was immune, then the end of the epidemic was in sight. They had never heard of anyone showing signs of immunity before, so it was possible no one else had either.

They discussed what had to be done. It was decided that they would take Lloyd to the other side of the country, to the evacuation point. A compound where the government's efforts against the zombies were centralised, and civilians were transported to offshore vessels where they were safe from the virus. Hopefully someone there would know what to do, could make a cure or vaccine or something. It was a long shot, but it was the best chance they had.

Well, it was better than staying holed up in an empty house.


	2. Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dareth is the greatest zombie killer in the area. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

Crouching, hiding in the shadows, he waits. Bides his time for the perfect strike. He is a stealthy predator, and the lone zombie his prey. Powerful muscles tense beneath his skin, the cadaver turns it's back, and he sees his chance.

He leaps.

He strikes.

He is victorious.

Smirking at his kill, he preens a little, feels he deserves at least that much.

"You fought valiantly undead scum, but in the end you were no match for such an accomplished fighter as I. With my impressive strength, my nerves of steel-"

The downed zombie lurches, groans, attempts to get back up. He haphazardly smacks it in the head a couple of times, waiting a moment to make sure it's not getting back up this time, before shakily resuming his stance. He definitely did not yelp. Nope. A brave, strong man like him, startled by that? Not a chance.

Something grabs him from behind. He starts screaming.

It lasts a bit before he realises the killing blow isn't coming. In fact, whatever it was has let go of him. His screaming tapers off as he slowly turns and looks at the corpse on the ground, fresh bullet wound in it's head.

"Are you okay?" It's difficult to hear the question, muffled as it is through a mask, and nearly drowned out by the hysterical laughter from someone a small ways off, but he hears it and locks eyes with his saviour. Maybe. The mask makes it hard to tell where the other is looking, but he assumes they've got eye contact going on right now.

"Y-yeah..." He looks the stranger up and down. Full military gear, at least a couple of inches taller, two guns on his person, maybe more. He doesn't stand a chance against this guy. "Please don't mug me."

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Because you can?" His companions are starting to come over. Oh god, reinforcements. "I don't have anything, I swear!"

"We can see that." The new speaker is head to toe red and gold. "Man, you're equipped worse than Lloyd is, and that's saying something." Another, presumably the aforementioned Lloyd, punches him in the arm. The other two haven't spoken yet, one because he was still laughing too hard, and the other was attempting to stop the first from laughing. He looked like he was close to throttling him actually.

He couldn't take any of these guys in a fight, not even the kid, but at least it seemed like they weren't going to rob him. Regaining some of his former bravado, he raked a hand through his hair, trying to look presentable.

"Thanks for the assist, but I'm sure I could have handled it."

"Handled it!?" The one in the riot police vest finally takes a break from laughing at him. "You were squealing like a little girl! What were you trying to do, make the zombie deaf!?" He goes back to laughing, though it's a lot more subdued now.

"My methods are difficult to comprehend little man." There is some indignant spluttering at that, but he ignores him. "But anyway, my name is Dareth. Zombie hunter extraordinaire. Got 7 kills under my belt." He strikes a pose, very much proud of himself.

"Extraordinare? You're using a wooden bat with nails in it." The guy in the parka finally speaks up, sounding none too pleased with his choice of weapon.

"Yeah, so?"

"Well it's good for a few whacks, but it'll split apart after a while. And it sends blood and gunk everywhere."

"And with your current attire, zombie viscera is not something you want flying around."

"You're totally exposed dude! What were you thinking dressing like that?"

"Like I said, equipped worse than Lloyd."

"I'll hit you again Kai."

Okay, now they were just picking on him. But, they had saved him. Maybe he could pick up a few tips from them. Just a few.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually suggested by an Anon on tumblr. As cringe-worthy Dareth is, he was fun to write. You never know, he might show up again. ;)


	3. First times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things weigh more heavily on your conscience than others.

The first time Lloyd killed a zombie, he couldn't forgive himself.

It was a thing, a creature, a harsh contrast of soft rotted flesh and stiff rigor mortis, no longer human by any stretch of the imagination.

Not a human, no. But it used to be, and Lloyd couldn't forget that, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he shouldn't be feeling this way over putting the thing down. Couldn't forget the look of it, the smell of it, the sound of the shovel impacting brain matter.

He had nightmares for weeks. Even after he started travelling with the gang, there would still be nights he would wake, breathing harsh and body shaking, needing a calming hand to smooth over his back and tell him he was okay. The others understood, they had nightmares too.

He would get better, would slay many more without problem, but the memory of that first kill would lurk in the back of his mind, waiting to rear it's ugly head when it was dark and quiet.

He awoke one night to find the others asleep, they all needed the rest and the fenced in area was safe enough. Zombies were not smart enough to climb. Not wanting to wake anyone, and not able to go back to sleep, he had wandered off, exploring the surroundings. He had recently picked up a compound bow, and being used to longbows, had hoped to find something to try it out on, though his search was unsuccessful.

And so he had come back to find a stranger, a human, stood over his friends, readying to strike them down in their sleep.

Lloyd did not hesitate. He loaded an arrow with practised ease, pulled the string, and let it loose.

The arrow silently hit home in the man's skull.

Avoiding waking his friends was not an option after that, he needed their help to properly dispose of the body. No point in killing him only to let him come back. The others had been shocked to hear it had been so easy for him. Lloyd had explained he had no qualms killing someone who wanted to hurt his friends.

The first time Lloyd killed a man, he had no nightmares, and felt no remorse whatsoever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little thing.  
> Lloyd's pretty ruthless huh?


	4. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all have to say goodbye at some point.

They had been so close. They had only been about a week away from the evacuation point. Only one more week of survival before they were finally safe. Zombie attacks had been low for days, if it stayed like that there would be no problems reaching their destination.

It was too good to be true.

They had gotten complacent, they hadn't been prepared for the ambush. The thing about the zombies is, the longer they've been that way, the more dangerous they are. The virus progresses to a more advanced state, slowly but surely, they become more feral. With sharper teeth and nails, stronger and faster, if their ligaments haven't rotted away by then. Long story short, older zombies were bad news.

And these guys had been zombified for a while.

The attack had been brutal, they had scattered to avoid being cornered. It worked, but with each of them essentially fighting solo, it had been difficult. Lloyd had scraped his arm raw on the side of a building while running, but other than that, he was blessedly unscathed. He managed to reunite with Cole relatively quickly, and Zane not long after that. They found Jay sitting in the rubble with a twisted ankle, unable to walk. Even with the injury, they counted themselves lucky that no one had sustained anything too severe.

They found Kai a while later when he stumbled around a corner, cracked helmet clutched in his hands, blood still dripping from the claw marks across his face.

-

Everyone had been tense, waiting to see if the wounds would heal. Healing was good, safe, healing meant the virus hadn't gotten him.

It had been days since then, and the gashes were still as fresh as the day they were made, like a bright red warning flag, telling people to stay away, because he was infected.

And Lloyd was angry at him. Angry that he had discarded his helmet, because there was no need for it now. Angry that he fussed over Lloyd's arm. Angry that he seemed so damned okay with everything, like he'd just accepted it, like it wasn't anything to worry about.

But at the end of the day, he wasn't really angry at Kai. How could he be? One of his best friends in the whole world was going to turn, and they didn't know how long it would take before the boy was no longer himself.

  
-

  
There it is. The fabled evacuation point. The place where they may be able to finally end this nightmarish reality. Lloyd had often imagined this moment, it was supposed to be so exciting, so happy. But knowing that one of them wouldn't be making it past the gate, he couldn't help but dread finally reaching that big metal fence. It wasn't fair. Even with Zane carrying Jay, they had all made it here, and now they had to leave one of their own outside, so tantalizingly close to salvation?

He stops his slow pace forward. He can't do this. It's just too awful. Kai placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Hey, what's the matter? We're nearly there! Aren't you excited to go in?"

"...Do I really have to?" is his response, the ground at his feet holding his attention more than it really should.

"Come on man, don't you wanna go find your parents? Save the world? What's wrong?" Lloyd feels a flare of anger in his chest, though it dies down quickly. Is he honestly asking what the problem is?

"I don't want to leave you here alone..." He says quietly, rubbing at his eyes, bidding the prickling sensation there to go away. Kai chuckles, which is more than a little confusing.

"You don't have to worry about that..." There is suddenly the sound of gear dropping to the floor, of cloth shuffling. When Lloyd looks up his blood runs cold.

Jay had removed the boot from his injured leg and rolled the material of his overalls up, revealing deep, wet gouges in the ankle, the sprain having been a lie. It looked like a zombie had dug it's nails in and pulled. No wonder he couldn't walk.

Cole's was on old wound, marks from teeth sunk into his wrist, dry but unhealed, dark spots marring the skin around it, a symptom of the peculiar necrosis that accompanies the infection after a time. It had to be maybe a month old.

Zane... jesus, were those stab wounds? Three, maybe four, ugly slashes where a knife had been rammed into his shoulder, just above the collarbone. The same telltale spotting around the wound, contrasting harshly against his pale skin. When had that happened?

"I'm not going to be alone."

Lloyd can't help but stare at them, standing there, displaying their injuries like medals of honour, smiling as if nothing was wrong.

"Why?" Is all he can manage to say through the lump in his throat, but they seem to understand. Why hadn't they told him? Why had they kept only him in the dark about it? Why did they think this was okay? Hot tears roll down his cheeks.

"We didn't want to upset you." Zane says, in such a casual tone, as if he weren't discussing why they hadn't mention that they were all as good as dead.

"Upset me!? That's... that's the stupidest reason I've ever..." He can't finish, a sob wrenching it's way from him.

"Would you have been able to keep going if you knew?" Jay speaks up next. Lloyd doesn't answer, wet gaze returning to the ground once more. "Would you have even wanted to?"

Eventually, reluctantly, Lloyd shakes his head. The only reason he got this far was because of them. If he had known, he would have resigned himself to die with them, the fate of the world be damned. He feels like an idiot for not noticing before, the scratches that never seemed to go away, the point when they stopped taking off a layer or two at night, even when it was way too warm, carefully avoiding the topic of what they would do when this was all over.

He hides his face in his hands, as if he can make it all go away, make it all a bad dream and wake up to friends who aren't telling him to leave them forever. A moment passes before he is pulled into an embrace, warm and comforting.

"I can't..."

"You've got to go Lloyd. It wouldn't be fair if you didn't get through this because of us." Lloyd is sobbing now, shaking his head as Cole rubs soothing patterns on his back.

"None of this is fair." A gentle kiss is pressed to the top of his head.

"I know..." He looks back up at the others, still smiling so reassuringly at him, but looking so tired. He buries his face into Cole's coat again, not wanting to see them like that.

"I love you, I love all of you, so much, I'll miss you, please don't go..."

"We love you too, we'll miss you too, it will be alright"

They each hug him one long, last time, littering his cheeks and forehead with light kisses, whispering loving and encouraging words to him.

"Our Lloyd, be strong, for us."

Cole slips a paper into Lloyd's hand. He says nothing about it, but gives him a look that says he's entrusting him with something very precious.

"Everything will be okay, please don't cry."

They walk him the rest of the way to the gate, wait with him until a guard opens it, and finally shuts it between them, with Lloyd on the other side.

"You made us so happy, please smile again, you're so important to us."

Their hushed words turn to shouts as Lloyd gets further away, lingering would only make it all hurt more, and the guard is eager to usher him inside to safety. They don't stop until they're out of earshot.

"Thank you, thank you for everything, we love you, we're so proud of you."

"Take good care of our Lloyd, he's going to save the world, we love him so much, look after him for us."

The last thing he hears from them, the last time he hears their voices, he smiles, despite himself.

"Let's meet again one day, somewhere else far from here, promise we'll be together again, okay?"

He promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to posting this, it's one of the first shorts I wrote for the AU.  
> If Masters of Zombie Slaying were a game, I guess this would be the good ending. It's not the bad ending, but it's certainly not the true ending either.


	5. Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it hurts to remember, but other times, remembering is the only thing keeping you from hurting.

Your name is Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon, and you're pretty sure you helped save the world.

Well, you helped save Ninjago at least. The details on whether or not the rest of the world was experiencing the zombie outbreak were kind of fuzzy, but you figure that being the reason a cure was found is kind of a big deal, regardless of how widespread the problem.

You probably weren't the first person to discover their immunity by getting bitten like a dumbass and miraculously not zombifying. But as luck would have it, you were the first one with that knowledge to make it to the evacuation point alive.

You suppose you owe that to your friends. No, there's no supposing about it, you would have never gotten that far on your own. You would have stayed in the imagined safety of your home and waited for any number of things to kill you off. You would never have learned how to survive, how to pick your fights, to ambush the ones you could take and escape from the ones you couldn't.

Never known the sick satisfaction of splitting open a man's skull.

Never known the sweet smell of a good meal when you can't remember the last time you ate.

Never learned to appreciate that every sunrise is as beautiful and breathtaking as the last, because you might never see another one.

You can never keep track of everything that happened over those precious few months, but you can always remember the important things.

The hysteric laughter when you come down from an adrenaline high, the unwavering trust you give your team-mates, and they give you in return. The loud nights, the quiet nights, the nights where you can't seem to stop crying, the soft comfort of another human being.

You remember the good and the bad. You remember when everyone had gone skinny dipping in that lake, because Jay had said that life is too short not to, and you were all sniffling and coughing for a week after but no one complained because it was fun, and lord knows you needed some fun sometimes if you wanted to stay sane.

And when you had all huddled together in an old van, hiding from that bandit with the machine gun for what felt like hours until he had become distracted and left. You all stayed in that van for the rest of the night, exhaustion and fear making you unwilling to move.

You think what you remember most of all though, is when you found that old polaroid camera. You messed around with that thing for ages, snapping shots of clouds or debris, things that caught your attention, tossing the photos because you didn't really care about them, you just liked the whirr of the mechanism as the picture came out, and shaking them like you know you're not supposed to, because you thought it made you look cool.

You played photographer for a while, until you were all in higher spirits than you had been in a while, from something as simple as a camera no less.

You didn't encounter a single zombie that day.

In the end, you stopped when there was a single photo left in it. You gathered everyone around you and pointed the gadget back at yourself, and pressed the button one last time. There was a unanimous decision to hold onto that one, as funny as the photos of the guys "modelling" were, this was the one that was important.

It had been that photo that Cole had pressed into your hand the day you left your friends at the gate. You didn't know what it was at the time, just knew a dear friend had given it to you during a last goodbye, and had held onto it as tightly as possible. It was days later that you dared check what the paper was, and broke down all over again when you saw those smiling faces staring up at you.

Maybe they knew, even then, that they wouldn't make it, that you'd need something to remind you of them, to remind you that even if there are bad times, there can be good times too. Because even when you couldn't rest for zombies or bandits, that day with the polaroid camera had been as close to perfect as you think you'll ever come.

You'd give anything to be able to experience it just one more time.

Not a day goes by that you don't think about your friends. You still cry sometimes, but you stay positive, they wanted you to be strong. It's easier now, seeing how well society bounced back from the outbreak. You can now safely walk down streets you once cowered from, go out into the open without fear of attack, you can eat regularly, and sleep in an actual bed.

Thinking about it, you haven't really saved the world at all. You didn't do any of the work. You were just some stupid kid who happened to have a useful genetic mutation. All you had to do was get from point A to point B, and you were protected, carried, encouraged, and loved, every step of the way.

No, you didn't save the world. Your friends did. And you hope you can see them again one day to properly thank them. You promised you would after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though this is a follow-up to goodbye, this is actually the first story I wrote for this AU.


	6. Hallucinogen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does what it says on the tin.

Dark.

Dark, too dark, too dark too long. Why? Can't remember, brain's too fuzzy, foggy. Eyes feel hot, world feels far away. Is it? Don't know, can't remember.

Where am I? Dead? Chest heaves, like breathing treacle, forgot how to swallow, chin wet with drool. Is it? Might be tears, might be blood, hard to tell apart any more.

A pressure on the muzzy brain, like a headache, but almost not real, but far too real, head too full, head too full, make it stop, please, I'm scared.

Friends? Where? Scared, want them here, don't want them here, can't remember, hurts, scared, like a scratching behind the eyeballs, can't remember, please remember.

Silence. Silence? Is it? Don't know, hear whispers, laughter, screaming, they stop and start, the darkness parts to show the source, not real, not real, not real? Please don't be real, please, scared, hurts, help, HELP.

Can't move. Can I? Control is erratic, don't want to move, feels wrong, hands on flesh, not real. Hands on wrists, not real. Hands on throat, not real. Hands in hair, not real? Maybe real. My hands. Real. Real? Feels wrong, unreal, everything, the word loses meaning, the reality loses meaning, help, scared, don't want this, might disappear, help.

Not enough air, lungs burn, did it always feel like this? Can't remember, head is overfull, too much, too scared, too dark, blocks thoughts, lets the reality out, see things that aren't real. Or too real? Don't know, scared, help, please help, I'm sorry.

Light.

Hurts hurts hurts pain light no stop hurts eyes burn please no no no no no no bring the darkness back please I'm sorry I'm sorry

Fingers on my face, real real real real real, it laughs smoke, lungs burn, world swims, the screaming starts again, throat hurts, I'm the one screaming

Blood drips, mocking laughter permeates, like daggers through flesh

Yellow eyes glowing like hellfire

please no stop no scared no help help HELP NO PLEASE STOP GO AWAY SCARED I'M SCARED I'M SORRY DON'T PLEASE NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

\--

"You let him go?"

"Yeah, he was getting boring, same reaction every time. Hate it when they start getting repetitive. Figured letting him stumble around terrified in the dark outside would be a laugh."

"Pythor won't be happy, he doesn't like it when you just throw them away like that."

"He was mine to play with. Kid was blitzed anyway, he doesn't like it when they're off their faces like that does he? Besides, you let yours go didn't you?"

"He bested me in battle. It was the honourable thing to do."

"Honour my ass Skalidorable, you fought dirty 'til the very end."

"Don't call me that."

"Whatever. Pythor only wants the little one anyway, doesn't matter what happens to the others, gonna kill them all eventually."

"Skales wants to recruit them."

"Skales is a twat. Have you seen him do his psycho-watchamacallit thing? Sleazy as anything."

"Your criticism is extremely hypocritical you realise."

"Says mister piercings-are-bad-but-I've-got-spikes-in-my-neck."

"Shut up Acidicus, before I break your face."

"Can do buddy."

\--

"Come quick, we found Kai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to write about the interactions between the boys and the serpentine now.


	7. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole shuts Jay up the only way he knows how.  
> Bruiseshipping

Cole was not having a good day.

He'd had to bend his ice axe back into shape after a particularly feisty zombie attack, had to separate Kai and Lloyd during an argument over lord only knew what, had somehow lost a boot for an hour before finding it, all with a headache that had settled in mid-morning.

And to top it all off, he was stuck guarding camp with Jay while the others were off raiding nearby stores.

Which wouldn't be so bad, if Jay would just shut his goddamn mouth for five seconds.

Living with the blabbermouth for so long meant that tuning him out was second nature, but his constant rambling was still background noise contributing to the pounding in Cole's skull, and he was starting to debate the pros and cons of socking the freckled wonder right in the mouth.

He managed to endure a few minutes more, making it very clear he was not in the mood by burying his face in his hands and groaning loudly, but Jay would not pause his blathering no matter what. So Cole did the only think he could think would shut him up.

He grabbed a handful of auburn hair and yanked the shorter boy into a kiss.

And oh, the silence was blissful. The rough feel of another mouth against his own wasn't too bad either. Was Jay confused? Probably, but if the quick reciprocation of the kiss and the harsh tugging at his hood were anything to go by, he wasn't against it. But damn if Jay wasn't vocal even then, humming his approval often, only to be silenced by a reminding pull of the hair still firmly held in Cole's fist.

It lasted through teeth, and tongue, and various noises by both parties, until the once prominent headache was no more than a hazy buzzing easily pushed to the corner of Cole's mind. Only then did they finally part.

"So... any reason for that little outburst there?"

"Shut up Jay." Cole growled, leaning in for round 2, and Jay was rendered blessedly speechless once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trash haha.


	8. Serpentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of the serpentine, and the recruiting of it's generals.

"Oh god, this is it. This is it we're gonna die."

Pythor rolled his eyes, having heard this string of panicked wailing many times already. Whatever had he done to deserve being trapped in this decrepit building with this gibbering moron? Well, he already knew the answer to that, but continued to silently bemoan his predicament, and his unfavourable company.

He had been mooching off of a bunch of survivors he had stumbled across, planned to ditch them, and possibly kill them, as soon as he found somewhere habitable to hide away. Of course, they ran into zombies, and of course, coward that he was, Pythor had instantly hidden himself in a nearby building to wait out the scuffle. He was counting on a couple of them falling in the struggle, so offing them later would be less of a hassle.

What he hadn't planned on was one of them barrelling into his hiding place and bringing rubble down on their only exit. And the culprit was now repeating himself over and over, about how they were going to die. It was more than a little annoying.

"Would you stifle your paranoid raving? Our comrades will dig us out in due time."

"Dig us out!? It's been hours! They've abandoned us for sure! I knew they would, couldn't trust any of them, they hated me, I just know it!" Pythor sighed, agitated. The fool was getting worked up over nothing, he could plainly hear the noises of rubble being moved. He tuned the mutterings out, thinking. It had indeed been hours, and probably hours more before they were free. But his travelling companions were soft hearted, they wouldn't leave them trapped here.

Pythor pitied them a little. So trusting. So naive.

It went on for a good while more without anything much changing. And the man had not shut his trap once during the whole time. Pythor finally snapped, grabbing at the other's shoulder, shaking him.

"Would you cease that at once! We are not going to suffocate, we are not going to be crushed under falling rubble, not attacked or abandoned or whatever other implausible situations are scrabbling about in that tiny brain of yours!"

He seemed stunned for a second, before making an expression like he was thinking of something else to worry about. Pythor wanted to punch it right off his face.

"W-well... if we're here any longer, we'll starve! We've not got any food with us!" Pythor considered this for a moment, stomach grumbling at the thought. He was indeed hungry, but he knew a way to shut his companion up and sate his hunger. Smirking, his hand on the man's shoulder softened, almost reassuringly.

"Don't you worry." He flicked out the switch-blade behind his back, tongue darting across his lips hungrily.

"We won't starve."

-

A sharp crack filled the air, once busy with the cacophony of arguing, now silent, save for heavy breathing.

Skales stood stock still, staring at the body in front of him, slumped backwards over a pile of debris. Fists tight, anger in his eyes, the dawning realisation of what had happened hit him.

"...shit." He hadn't meant to kill him. His cousin was a scumbag, but he was the one keeping them alive. Honestly, Skales rose above his insults and comments usually, but insult his wife and child? That was the last straw. Intending to simply teach him a lesson, his fist had collided with that filthy mouth and sent him careening back, and he'd hit the rubble and stopped moving.

Before he could think of how to explain this to Selma, a voice not far off interrupted his train of thought.

"My my, his neck snapped like a twig. You'll want to dispose of the body quickly, wouldn't want him getting back up would we?"

Skales considered the stranger, he exuded confidence, his eyes held a glint of something dangerous, his words spoken with a honeyed tone, meant to disarm, to gain trust. This man had a plan, and was clearly only speaking to him for a specific purpose. Probably one that would only benefit one of them, and Skales knew which one that was. Against his better judgement, he decided to humour him.

"I doubt he'll be walking about any time soon. Even if he's reanimated, he's most likely paralysed."

"Still, better safe than sorry you know. Stranger things have happened. Look around you, strange things are happening all over the country."

"Let's cut the chitchat." Curiosity was getting the better of him. What did this man want? Better to get it out in the open sooner than later. "You want something from me. Let's hear it then." That dangerous look flashed in his eyes again, smirk widening.

"Very perceptive, you'll live up to my expectations I'm sure. I have a proposition for you. I want your aid in an endeavour of mine." He was being deliberately vague. It threw up warning flags, but still, Skales was intrigued.

"And what do I get in return?"

"Protection." Skales scoffed, he could handle himself. "For your family." That stopped him. He almost wondered how this man knew of his family, before he remembered they had been the subject of the shouting match earlier. He probably also heard what his profession was, explaining the expectations he apparently had of him.

Of course he wanted his family safe. And he wanted to know more about this intriguing, alluring, dangerous man. He made his decision with little hesitation.

"Your name?"

"Pythor." Pythor smirked, knowing this meant he was on board.

"Skales." They shook on it, and Skales started walking away, intent on continuing their conversation somewhere safer.

"You aren't going to give him a proper burial or anything?" Pythor asked, gesturing to the corpse. Skales simply glanced at it and walked on.

"Slithraa was a dick, let someone else deal with him." He received laughter in response. Maybe this partnership would be a good idea after all.

-

Skalidor was a man of simple needs. All he wanted in life was to be strong, look intimidating, and beat people up. And there was nothing that got his adrenaline pumping like a good old fashioned death match. Well, they weren't supposed to be death matches, but by the end his opponents didn't usually make it out in a good way. This one was no different. Splattered with another's blood, he kicked the unconscious body at his feet as he exited the ring, intending to simply collect his winnings and relax until his next match started.

"Ruthless, aren't you?" Skalidor turned to find the owner of the voice, a skinny man sitting in the makeshift stands, Skalidor could take him if he got disrespectful.

"Mercy has no place in the pit."

"Of course not. You don't get to be the champion going soft on your prey." Champion? Prey? He didn't know where the words this guy chose were coming from, but he liked the sound of it. He allowed himself to feel proud, always happy for an ego boost. "I could do with a peerless warrior like you in my little group."

"Group? You run fights too?" The man chuckled.

"No no my friend, my sights are set on much bigger things than combating for supplies." That's when what the stranger was saying really got Skalidor's attention. Sure beating guys up and taking their belongings was plenty fun, but it wasn't really a challenge. But bigger things? Bigger things sounded far more appealing. "And you are just the man I need on my side. Interested?" Well, he never was above being hired muscle.

"You promise me decent battles, and I'm yours. Skalidor at your service." The man's grin widened, hand reaching down to shake on it.

"You do your job, and you can shed as much blood as you desire." Skalidor returned the grin.

"Perfect."

-

"The man I've been searching for is a crackhead. Wonderful." One tired eyelid slid open to get a look at the man that had entered his domain. He undeniably looked like he had his shit together, a total square, but Acidicus had to admit, the purple suited him. Not moving from his spot reclining in a chair behind the counter of the pharmacy, he removed the joint from his mouth to reply, smoke dancing through the air.

"Crackhead? Nah man that stuff jitters you up too bad. I am a connoisseur, only the finest brain rotters for me." The man grimaced, whether from the smoke or his mannerisms, he couldn't tell. Taking another drag, he continued. "Well, you said you're here to see me. Pull up a seat dude, mi casa es tu casa. Name's Acidicus. What can I do for you my man?"

"I'll get to the point then." He neglected to sit down, Acidicus couldn't bring himself to be offended. "My name is Pythor P. Chumswoth." Acidicus laughed at that, and earned himself a glare. "I've been lead to believe you are the man to go to for matters of chemical warfare."

Acidicus' eyes gleamed through the haze of the smoke. While he enjoyed the recreational uses for his chemicals, he revelled in the opportunities to use them offensively. No one he knew could wield a chemistry set like he could.

"Well Chummy, now you've piqued my interest. My head is an encyclopaedia of pharmaceutical and chemical knowledge. Tell me what you want, I can whip it up for you."

"And your price is?" Acidicus laughed again, a short barking noise.

"No price my amigo, you're doin' mighty good abiding my oh so crass nature, that's probably payment enough. Besides, I'm sitting on an entire building's worth of potential mayhem. I'm dying to unleash it."

"Oh really?" It was Pythor's turn to look interested. "If you're so eager to unleash hell, then how about you come work for me?" Thoughtful look on his face, Acidicus blew a few smoke rings. This dude was starting to sound like his ticket to a more exciting way to spend the apocalypse than sitting in a pharmacy and getting high.

"I'm listening."

-

When you're bitten by a zombie, you're done for. End of the road. You're a goner buddy, nice knowing you.

Except it wasn't.

Fangtom had realised something was different when he had not lost his sentience. His skin greyed and discoloured, his nails grew to claws, he shrugged off the shackles of exhaustion and pain. And yet, he kept his mind. Most of it. The nagging voices that piped up when he tried to think were a small price to pay for retaining the ability to think at all in his book. He wondered if this is what all zombies felt like, or if he was different somehow. He wondered why anyone would want to stay uninfected if this raw power crawling under his skin was the alternative.

He attempted to communicate with other infected, but they ignored him. Impudent things. Couldn't they see he was like them? Like them but better. They should be obeying him, bowing down to his clear superiority.

So he went after the living, figuring that if they were turned by him, they would obey him. They attempted to put him down in life, and would be under his command in death. Such delicious justice.

It didn't work.

In anger, he attacked any living he laid eyes on. Mercilessly and without hesitation.

Until one talked to him.

"You're not like the others are you?" Halting in his blind rush, Fangtom absorbed what was said, and the one who said it. He wasn't scared at all, seemed almost certain he would be unharmed, smug even, though Fangtom could smell the slight apprehension on him. "My men have seen you around, said you show signs of intelligence, of life, real life, not like the cheap imitation the other corpses exhibit." Fangtom growled at him, not liking the insinuation that he was a corpse. The man flinched almost imperceptibly, but kept his cool demeanour. "Stop wandering around aimlessly. Come join me, become a general in my army. Realise the potential behind your predicament."

"And why... would you want a 'corpse'... to head your army?"

"Why? You have unequal power at your fingertips, just waiting to be discovered. I want that, I want a man as deadly as a zombie, with all his wits about him. You are an asset I want, and I have so much to offer you in return."

"What... could you possibly have... that I would want?" Honestly at this point Fangtom didn't want anything. Hell, he didn't know if he even wanted to continue existing.

"The chance to meet someone like yourself?" Okay, Fangtom wanted that.

"Explain..."

"We occasionally come into... possession, of people. Once I no longer have need of them, you have free reign to turn them, and see if they turn out like you." How did he know he'd been trying that? It didn't matter, the voices in his head were getting excited, riling him up. The chance to have someone like him at his side? And without the danger of people trying to kill him? He couldn't let that get away.

"I accept. My name is Fangtom."

"I am Pythor. Pleased to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An account of how each of the serpentine generals met Pythor, and a little bit at the start with him that's been stuck in my head for a while. It feels good to be writing for this au again after so long. :3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy to finally get this up! The first of hopefully many little stories for the Masters of Zombie Slaying AU. I wanted something short, simple, and to the point for this first one, just something to establish the premise of the AU.


End file.
